


Only Flesh

by deisegal



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Mix of Show and Book Canon, Oral Sex, PWP, whatever whatever I do what I want
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-08
Updated: 2016-07-08
Packaged: 2018-07-21 14:36:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,092
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7391122
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deisegal/pseuds/deisegal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Not Another Last Night at the Wall Fic!?!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Only Flesh

He was almost absurdly proud of the smile that spread across her features when he finished reading the contents of the parchment to her.  


Did I not tell you this would come to pass, my King?" 

"You did, back on Dragonstone, many moons ago!"  


"I see visions in the flames, and I know they will come to pass, but I can't always tell when, and sometimes the order of events is..... a little unclear.  
"That's not very useful is it?"  


She pursed her lips. "Still you doubt me, after all that I have shown you?"  


And now he felt guilty. He cursed her silently. No one should have this power over him.  


She moved past him and stopped in front of the wash bowl on the nightstand and began soaking a cloth in the water. She squeezed the water out and turned to look at him.  


"I knew this false king with his false god would be accounted for sooner or later. It took a little longer than I had hoped but it has come to pass, and that should be all that matters, no?" She turned quickly back to the washbowl, her long hair whipping around as she did so.  


He snorted. Balon Greyjoy was dead, killed after a fall from a bridge at Pyke. He supposed that _should_ be all that mattered for now. Three false kings dead, one for each of the leeches that had sizzled on the brazier in Dragonstone. He'd scoffed at her even then. He knew Davos had despaired as he watched them. But at the time he couldn't see any harm in indulging her rituals, especially when he had been cast so low after Blackwater. He still could not fully believe, even as each usurper dropped away, but as long as he kept her by his side he felt he had some advantage over his rivals. And he was still standing out of all of them. There was something to her, he could not deny that, even if he didn't or couldn't fully understand her or her powers.  


She soaked and squeezed the cloth again. "But this does change my plans somewhat."  


"In what way?"  


"This news has helped to explain some of the signs I've seen in the last few weeks. And I see that it would be more beneficial for me to stay here."  


"Stay here?! But we march at first light. All the arrangements have been made. You said I should not make the same mistake as I made at Blackwater, that you must be at my side for the next battle?"  


"And that was before the third false king fell. I must always react to events. The end result is the same, but the path that leads us there twists and turns. And I am so much stronger here. In truth I feared leaving here as my powers were increasing, but now I do not have to. I can continue to draw on the Wall's power, and see my Lord's plan unfold. The visions have been getting stronger too!  


He could almost feel his blood simmering with each garbled statement that came out of her mouth and he resented that her voice seemed to be trembling. Anyone would think she was talking about a lover. Her God was a lover of sorts. 

"That sounds so foolish. You should never waver from your path."  


"So you should have lopped Ser Davos' head off when he let Robert's bastard escape?"  


"That was different, you said he would be needed in the battle ahead. The battle against this _Great Other_ you speak of? We would not have come here at all if it were not for him."  


"Yes all of that is true. But yet you were so _sure_ in yourself my King when you raised your sword. He had betrayed you, had he not? Treason is treason."  


He rubbed at his temple, "Enough about Ser Davos! _You_ are the one who is vexing me now woman. One minute you are adamant that only _I_ can hold back the darkness, that _I_ must take the throne, that my whole life leads towards some battle in the snow. And that you must be at my side for all this. But now you have decided that will stay behind here to do who knows what? A little light needlework? Polish the furniture while you wait for your God to show you a picture in the fire? Play the harp for Lord Snow?"  


He realised belatedly that he was shouting and now he felt even more foolish. But she had been so sure and she had spent the last two weeks nagging at him about his folly at Blackwater. Of what she could do for him. Of what she had done for him. He channeled his rage into crumpling up the parchment and throwing it into her precious flames. 

Then she was standing in front of him and cupping his face with her soft hands, thumbs stroking his cheekbones.  


"I told you, the end result will be the same. You will stop the darkness and you will be king. If I had never veered from my path I would never even have come to you, my King. But I pieced together the signs. And I found you." 

"So if we had not gotten the news about that wretched Greyjoy tonight..."  


"Then tomorrow I would have marched with you. But now I see I can serve you better from here. As I said I've always truly known it but until I got a definitive sign I thought it better to stay with you. The Lord has now given me that sign." 

And now she didn't need to stay with him. He pulled back from her touch and frowned into the flames. If he didn't know better he would think they were mocking him. Maybe he didn't know better. Maybe that was the point. Hanging on her every word when he couldn't make sense of most of it. Clinging to the idea that she saw something bigger than him. 

She sighed and walked back to the nightstand.  


"I see you still have your doubts. But one day you will see that all of this had a purpose. All the sacrifice will be worth it."  


Sacrifice. He furrowed his brow. Renly had been a sacrifice, but he had been willing to make it. His brother would have gladly sent him to his doom. He wondered how much more sacrifice was in his future. He dared not ask.  


She squeezed the accursed cloth one more time then draped it over the side of the bowl and carried the bowl to her chair. He couldn't help but watch as she settled in the chair and arranged the bowl at her feet. She loosened the tie on her robe and it slipped open to reveal flesh that didn't need to be revealed.  


He shifted awkwardly on his feet as she serenely leaned forward and started to wash her feet with the cloth.  


"I'll take my leave of you now. No need to stir yourself on our account when the host leaves. I imagine it will be of little interest to you when you can be busy plucking chickens or baking bread with the cook." He hated the very sound of his voice as the petty words left his mouth. But he resented her more for the way she was sitting there flaunting herself in front of him as if it was the most natural thing in the world.  


"Stay."  


"Don't be ridiculous. You're washing yourself! I haven't been in the habit of frequenting bath houses and I'm not about to start now."  


"It's only flesh my King."  


As if to taunt him further she shrugged out of her robe and the fabric gathered around her waist. She leant forward to soak the cloth again, tucking her hair to one side of her neck as she did so. Only flesh! Why she needed to be bare breasted to wash her feet he did not know.  


But there were lots of things he didn't understand. He couldn't explain why he was still there watching her and certainly couldn't explain why he stepped forward and landed clumsily on one knee in front of her. He took the cloth out of her hand and squeezed it. If she was surprised she gave no indication. She simply smiled and leaned back, watching him as he picked up her foot and began to rub at the sole.

She'd half cleaned it already but the other half was black with dirt.  


"You shouldn't walk in your bare feet on this filthy ground."  


"I like the feel of the ground between my toes."  


"That sounds ...unpleasant."  


"And tell me, my King, do you enjoy the taste of lemon water?"  


"What has that got to do with anything?"  


"Well, people might look at you and wonder why you can take pleasure from something so bitter?"  


"I do not take pleasure from it."  


"Then why do it?"  


He shrugged as he soaked the cloth once more and rubbed up around her ankle.  


"I have grown accustomed to the taste over the years."  


"I have always taken a sort of pleasure from very simple things, which is just as well because..." 

The long pause made her stop and look up at her. She fidgeted and tugged at the rope of hair on her shoulder. She seemed to think better of what she was going to say. His eyes were drawn quickly to her breasts and then just as quickly away as he stared at her feet again. 

But I must confess I did grow accustomed to one luxury on Dragonstone."  


"What?"  


"The bath!" she giggled and he couldn't help but stop again to look at her. She was a striking woman, but now she looked soft and youthful. And yet he had no idea what age she was.  


"I spent much too long wallowing in it when I should have been looking at the fires."  


He rubbed at the back of one of her lower legs, shivering as she stretched out her leg further to allow him easier access. He hadn't really thought this through, how far he would go...  


He decided it would be easier to keep talking, as if that would distract both of them from what was happening.  


"What was there to stop you watching the fires from the bath?"  


"Watching the fires is no idle past time my King. I must devote all my energies to it. It can be quite exhausting..." she stopped mid sentence again and when he looked up at her she was biting her lip.  


"Does it hurt you?"  


"What makes you ask that?"  


The only times he had found her looking less than serene or tranquil on Dragonstone were when he had called on her late at night, sitting in front of the fires. One night he had even noticed a smear of blood under her nose. The one time she had shown him something in the flames had been rather unpleasant and he had looked away after a few moments. The visions had only added to his already tormented sleep. After he saw the blood under her nose he started to wonder if the flames took a physical toll on her. He did not like to think of her suffering in serving him but she was so dedicated to those damn flames she would probably have spent her time staring at them even if she had never met him. He could not have Melisandre without her flames, and he could not imagine a life without Melisandre now.  


It hardly matters now. You must do what you need to do." 

He shifted around on his knees until he found himself between her legs. Though the fabric around her waist was covering her opening his heart was racing at the precarious position he was in. As though she could read his mind she whipped the robe away in one smooth motion and laid herself utterly bare to him. He had seen it all before but it was completely different from this angle. Before he knew what was happening he brought his lips to her opening. He suddenly remembered that he hadn't shaved in a week and that he must have been scratching her. As if _that_ was the only reason he should stop. But by then she had placed her hands on the back of his head and seemed to be encouraging him in his actions. He dropped the cloth on the ground and reached his arms up to balance himself on her thighs.

His heart was hammering in his chest now but to stop would have been defeat, perversely more shameful than continuing. He lapped at her desperately until one of her hands held his head still and the other hand rested on one of his arms. Even he could take this as a cue to slow down. He paused for a moment to grind his teeth. Melisandre took this moment to slide back in the chair and hook one of her legs over his shoulder. She was obviously making herself comfortable. He dared not look up. Yet slightly emboldened he trailed his hand along the underside of her raised leg and kissed her inner thigh. A little gasp escaped her mouth. He wanted to hear that noise again. He shifted to pull her towards him, gripping her hip tightly. How obscene they would have looked if anyone had walked in; the Red Priestess wrapped around the King, his face buried between her legs. Praying. He was worshipping her in a way. At least he knew that Melisandre had little use for servants and always dismissed them early in the evening. What a queer moment to suddenly think of other people. He kissed her again, then tentatively used his tongue to part the folds, moving it around the surface.

Flicking his tongue from side to side drew out another whimper. The satisfaction he took from that was now apparent between his own legs. He pulled away the hand that was resting on her hip to fumble with his laces and at least relieve some pressure there. 

He took a chance that swirling his tongue would be appreciated but wasn't quite prepared for the long groan that escaped her mouth. He repeated this over and over and the more she groaned the more determined he became. His end goal was in sight. _He_ would not waver from his path. She gripped one of his ears and then started rubbing up and down on it. He frowned to himself. He hoped she did not think this action was in any way arousing or enjoyable. Then it dawned on him that she was grabbing at him haphazardly because she was losing control and this realisation caused him to groan involuntarily. _He_ was the one making her lose control. Whenever he had been inside her she had always appeared to be somewhat in control and even in the moment of her ecstasy it seemed as though she was momentarily away from him, before regaining her composure. He wanted nothing more than to look up and see her face now. But to do that he would have had to stop and no that wouldn't do, not when he had her on the verge of coming apart at the seams with nothing more than his tongue. He continued to swirl but moved up slightly, feeling his tongue catch on a little bud. He pressed harder, but maintained the pace. He pulled her closer so she was almost on the edge of her seat. She was moaning almost continuously now and started thrashing the leg that was draped over his shoulder. He went to steady her but thought better of it, almost relishing the force of her heel on his back. When she peaked he felt her tremble under his lips and she squeezed the raised leg around him. He couldn't help but smile into her wetness and kissed her again. Then suddenly she kicked out and pushed him back. 

NOW he felt undignified, sprawled on his backside in front of her with his laces hanging half open and his cock straining at the fabric.

But one look at her face and his annoyance was replaced with awe. She had completely surrendered. She had slumped in the chair and her eyes were tightly shut. She had placed one hand on her choker and her other arm was draped across her breasts. Even in the dim light, he could see the pinkness of her cheeks and her chest was heaving. Was she silently cursing him for undoing her so completely? He quite liked that idea. He kneeled up and tried to compose himself, but couldn't help but watch her.

He picked up her robe and stood up over her. His need for relief was subsiding somewhat and his initial feeling of perverse pride was now fading as well. In hours he would be beginning the march to Winterfell. Yet here he was standing over his naked priestess, his closest advisor. He knew his men whispered about her and the way she served him. Did they also whisper of ways he might serve her? Because nothing would be more shameful than what he had just done. She opened her eyes just then and the look of wonder on her face caused him to rebuke himself. He held out the robe to her and she stood up and stepped into it. She hugged the robe to herself without tying it and smiled up at him. She had never looked so beautiful. Impulsively he reached down and kissed her. She threw her arms around his neck and the robe fell open again so she was pressing her nakedness against him. Must she always be so brazen? Must he always fall this way? Even while he was thinking this his hand slipped around to cup her backside. She made him feel so weak and so powerful all at once. The kiss seemed to last a very long time and when they broke apart she started laughing. He couldn't help but feel slightly peeved. He had had enough mockery in all forms to last him two lifetimes. 

"And what is so funny?". 

She smoothed her hands across his chest and composed her features into a very solemn stare. 

"I was just thinking that that is the first time I've kissed you where you haven't tasted of lemon water."


End file.
